


I have never known a day quite like night

by jessequicksters



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Illiad - Fandom, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Elegy, Extended Metaphors, M/M, POV Achilles (Song of Achilles), Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22100470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessequicksters/pseuds/jessequicksters
Summary: Achilles writes about Patroclus, after.
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Song of Achilles), Achilles/Patroclus of Opus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 38





	I have never known a day quite like night

I have never locked eyes with the sun;

cyclops of light, seeker of truth.

All my life, I have shielded myself from its beating gaze: 

prying open wounds, witnessing all conception and death.

The sun oversees every war from the high spheres,

dries every splash of blood on the battlefield to crimson chalk.

It counts the dead, counts the time they spent

staggering in this world, fearful and alone.  
  
  


But the sun will not—has not—seen my insides. I will not allow it.

At the end of every battle, at the end of every day, I slip away each time

into the cradle of soldier's tents,

the indifference of darkened oceans,

the lulling caress of sea breeze

and the forgiving glow of the moon, my lover. 

We meet as things often do, curious and afraid.

He strikes me senseless with an enduring, simple gaze.

A force unknown to either of us; if most things change and move in cycles,

what do we call a thing which does not? 

xxx

I have watched the moon and I know how it thinks.

He does not yearn for conquest and bloodshed and power, though the dark stains of daylight

leave illuminating marks at night: A trail of history; a sign of siege; of victories and defeats; of the lives of the brave; of the careless; 

of the vicious; the hungry; the starving, they must have been starving for so much, to give themselves away—

if the moon does not yearn for war

what will a world filled with it

think of him?

xxx

The stars are jealous of the sun—jealous of its strong, pure light.

The stars seethe and conspire; they begin to gather

like armies in the night, mimicking what they hear of men

who speak in hushed tones behind castle walls and barracks.

They think they will win the sun. 

_Numbers and strength will topple the light!_

_We will swallow it whole!_

xxx

There is no labour in my love for him. 

War, however, always comes first. 

I will not lose, ever, when I am with him.

xxx

In the early hours of the day, when the only beings awake are those with something to capture before someone else does,

the moon lingers among dusty clouds, a washed out blue sky,

not yet in full bloom. _Not yet._

He lingers in view as the sun rises, glorious and striking hot,

stays until the shadows drag him back,

where a thousand dead stars wait.

For the moon will always be the first to go, not by choice but by fate,

and the sun will always survive to watch another hundred troops die. 

Another day without the moon is another lifetime too long in cruel, mortal solitude.

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely fell in love with this book and had to write something for these two beautiful, hopeless, divine lovers <3


End file.
